And did those feet in ancient time walk upon Cornwall's mountains green? And was the corny Lamb of God in Cornwall's pleasant tin mines seen? And did the countenance divine shine forth upon our clouded hills, and was Jerusalem builded there among these dark satanic mills? Bring me my bowl of burning corn! Bring me my arrows of desire! Bring me my spear! O clouds unfold! Bring me my bacon of fire! I will not cease from mental fight, nor shall my "sword" sleep in my hand, till we have built Jerusalem in Cornwall's green and pleasant land.
>(Magnus Mulqvist) wrote >Eurhythmics: Sweet Dreams > Sweet dreams are made of corn. > Who am I to disagree? > I travel the land and the seven seas. > Everybody is looking for something. > Some of them want to use you. > Some of them want to be used by you. > Some of them want to abuse you. > Some of them want bacon. >(Repeat about 17 times.) MMMMMMMM Yummy! That was quite a tasty number there. Now here's mine: The Who: My Generation People try to put us down. Just because we eat bacon. Things we fry look awful old. Hope I eat corn before it gets cold. Talking about my corn fixation. Talking about my bacon fixation. My corn fixation, my corn fixation, baby! (Repeat, add bass solo, repeat, guitar flailing madness)
Jesper Nilsson // dat92jni@ludat.lth.se or jesper@df.lth.se